


caught up

by frnkieroo



Series: Sterek Oneshots [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, College Student Stiles, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Lapdance, M/M, Stiles Stilinski is Stuart Twombly, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles is Legal, Stripper Derek, loosely based on movie scene, so hes gonna be you know, well that caught ur attention didnt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnkieroo/pseuds/frnkieroo
Summary: "Stiles, at least try to seem excited," he begged."My father's favorite deputy is taking us to a strip club. Hurray. Is that good enough for you?"In which Stiles has better things to do than meet strippers. Until he meets Derek.





	caught up

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens in my head at 6am. jesusfuckign  
> based (loosely) on the best scene in The Internship, the only character really from it though is Stuart (Stiles)  
> so. enjoy.
> 
> **EDITED! Hope it's a little easier on the eyes.**

"This is stupid, Jordan. Scott and I both have exams in the morning."  
  
"Which is exactly why we're at a strip club tonight."  
  
Stiles and his best friend were sitting in Jordan Parrish's car, parked in front of a nightclub in the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He looked up at the sign above the entrance; he'd heard of the place before, but only through vague talk. The place itself was a good 45-minute drive from home, ensuring there would be no familiar faces for any of them. Scott was gazing out the window like a child pulling into Disneyland for the first time. Stiles, on the other hand, was preoccupied with his notes for Web Development that he poured his soul into for the past three weeks and  _wasn't_ going to get distracted by some nightclub.  
  
Coding was his thing, he felt. He also felt he had quite a dead-set future of programming ahead of him, and spent most of his time preparing for it. Jordan believed, however, that there was such thing as too much working, too much studying, too much coding, even. One could suffer from "burn-out", supposedly, and this would be good for them. So now they were here.  
  
"You guys ready?" Jordan looked over at Scott, who was nearly bouncing at this point in the passenger seat, then over to Stiles in the back, who hadn't given so much as an acknowledging glance out the window. "Stiles."  
  
"Yeah," he replied, not as an answer but more as a reflex. His face was illuminated by the phone's light in the darkness of the car.   
  
"If we're going to be here, that phone stays off. Got it?"  
  
"I didn't choose to come," Stiles retorted, eyes not leaving the screen.

Scott gave his most pathetic stare, which wasn't even slightly registered by his friend. "Stiles, at least try to seem excited," he begged.   
  
"My father's favorite deputy is taking us to a strip club. Hurray. Is that good enough for you?"  
  
"Well when you put it that way," Jordan reached over, pressing the lock button on Stiles' phone. "It sounds even better."

It hadn't really phased Stiles; by the time they were walking up the steps to the entrance he was glued back to the phone. 

"I hope I can find someone to really connect with," Scott said hopefully. 

Stiles snorted. "I'm sure you'll find the stripper of your dreams in there, Scotty," he deadpanned.

"Exotic dancers," Jordan corrected.

"Sure. And my weed guy was an exotic pharmacist." Stiles took one moment to glance up at Jordan, who was now frowning. "What?"

"Don't make me regret bringing you here."

"That is literally my only goal for tonight, dude."

As the three walked in, they were enveloped by heavy music and stuffy air. It seemed to be a fairly busy night; not many tables or spots on the dance floor were vacant. Stiles looked away from his notes for the short moment that his and Scott's hands were stamped while Jordan's ID was checked.

"Ah, Parrish?" Scott said slowly. 

Jordan glanced over with a small grin. "Yeah?"

"Nothing, there's just... there's kind of a variety here, isn't there?"

Stiles looked up from his phone for another split second, out of curiosity, and quickly understood what Scott meant. Not only were there girls dancing everywhere, but an equal amount of guys as well; everyone there looked to be having a pretty good time. He hummed in feign interest, and immediately directed his concern back to the more pressing matter at hand, which was his phone. There wasn't a face that really caught his attention at first look, anyway.

Keeping the two in front of him, he meandered behind for a bit longer before a voice stopped them. "Can I get you a table, gentlemen?" 

"We'd love one," Parrish replied. After a quick pause, he nudged Stiles.

Stiles hadn't glanced up from his phone again, very engaged in his own matters, thank you very much. He would simply follow Scott and Jordan to their table and camp there for the night until it was time to go.

"There's a great big world out there, Stiles. Just three inches up, I beg of you," Jordan said desperately.

Stiles hesitantly broke his gaze from the tiny screen in his hands to discover a chest about a foot in front of him. A very toned, very muscular, very gorgeous set of pecs above god-sent abs. This dude was barely covered up with a tight pair of shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

"Any questions?" Jordan raised a brow. But Stiles didn't hear him.  
  
Stiles learned another fun fact- the man was fucking _gorgeous_. A flawless complexion, a chiseled jaw shaded with the lightest stubble, and strikingly blue-green eyes. He had the slightest smile on his face.

"Hey, I'm Derek."  
  
"You're Derek," Stiles repeated stupidly.  
  
Derek raised a brow before looking over at the deputy. "Does he want a lap dance or not?" There wasn't so much a tone of irritation in his voice, more confusion than anything.   
  
"Stiles would _love_ one," Jordan answered quickly, shoving a generous pile of cash into the suddenly anxious man's hand and patting his back. "Be gentle, he's a newbie."  
  
Stiles shot back a glare for that, but his attention was instantly pulled back to Derek when he spoke.   
  
"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."  
  
Those words sent a current of _fuckfuckfuck_ through Stiles, and wasn't sure if he was still breathing when Derek took his empty hand and led him further into the club, past the bar, past the crowds of buzzed and dancing patrons, and over to a curtained-off section in the very back. He swallowed dryly. 

"We're going in there?" Stiles' voice betrayed him, cracking slightly at the last word. He wasn't sure what exactly lay behind those thick red curtains, but about ninety-eight percent of him was both eager and terrified to find out.  
  
"Would you like to?" Was all the dancer asked, looking at Stiles seriously.   
  
Stiles didn't know if his voice was his most trustworthy friend at the moment, so he chose the nonverbal route and nodded, hoping his face didn't show how clueless he felt. He gripped his other hand on his phone tightly.

Behind the curtains was much less intense than his imagination had led him to think; a smaller room with a large couch, and a little table beside it. He also noted the television, stereo, and _shit_ , even a mini-fridge. "Do you live here?" Stiles asked, his brain working at a little less than half-power at this point.

Derek laughed, which sent a flush through Stiles' face and down his neck. "We believe in utmost comfort here."

"Right," Stiles squeaked. He stood in place awkwardly for a moment before Derek had to literally take his hand again and guide him to the couch. He plopped down, staring at the dancer with wide eyes.

"Wow, you really are new to this, aren't you?" Derek grinned, immediately swinging his legs over Stiles' and taking a seat right in his lap.

 _Right, a lap dance,_ Stiles smacked himself internally. _This is how it goes._ "I've never done this."

"It's very simple, actually. You sit there, and put these," he took Stiles' hands into his, placing them on his hips, "here, and the rest is my job. Okay?"

"Okay." Stiles' voice was battling to keep above a whisper. 

He watched as Derek ran his hands down Stiles' chest slowly, then back up again to rest on his shoulders. Derek gave one small movement, a quick but graceful graze against Stiles' cock that made him inhale sharply. His brain was kind of already falling apart, so he did what he knew how to do best: talked.

"So, uh, what's it like being an exotic dancer?"

Derek pulled away slightly, giving Stiles a look. "I'm a stripper. Is there anything exotic-looking about me?"

Stiles paled at the blunt honesty. He cleared his throat. "That- that's a loaded question."

"This isn't some dream job either; I'm just putting myself through college."

Stiles' eyes widened at that statement. It wasn't too wild of a concept, really, college was expensive as shit. But the thought of this beautiful and nearly-naked man sitting in a classroom, fully clothed, listening to a lecture and taking copious notes, was quite an image.

"Not saying it's always bad, I mean you showed up today, didn't you?"

Derek gripped Stiles' hips and rolled his own against them, keeping a pressure that was driving him insane. He leaned in and now Stiles wasn't looking at his face but the wall opposite of him, and now there were lips on his neck, leaving delicate kisses that made his whole body burn. He felt his heartbeat throughout his body, not having had so much as a touch in awhile, and was quickly wondering how long he'd last.

The word vomit returned with a shaky breath. "What's your major?"

He heard a quiet sigh. Derek pulled back once again, looking him dead in the eye. "What's your name again?"

"Stiles," he choked out, still feeling that constant and amazing pressure.

"Stiles, do us both a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

He gave a jerky nod, now focusing his gaze down at the body that was grinding back and forth on him. He wanted this to last forever, really, or at least a few more hours, but the tightness in his pants was telling him otherwise, intensifying with every slight movement. He wasn't sure, again, if he was breathing anymore, because one deep breath and all of this could be over.

Derek must have sensed the tension. He pressed his lips against Stiles' ear, brushing against it lightly. "I said to stop talking, not be dead silent," he whispered.

"S-sorry," Stiles whispered back.

"Don't apologize. Lemme hear what you're feeling. I bet you sound so fucking hot," Derek said in a low voice, "when I do this." He let one hand trail down between them, palming Stiles through his jeans.

Stiles let his head fall back again, an embarrassing moan tumbling from his mouth. He let his eyes close, feeling sparks run up from his feet, through his sides, through his cock, and straight to his head; it was everything.

He continued to move so perfectly, now mirroring Stiles' moans as if he were enjoying it just as much himself. Derek's fingers were tangled in Stiles' hair, pulling gently.

"I wanna feel you, everywhere," Derek said softly, pushing down again. "Wanna taste you. Wanna finger you. Would you like that?"

Stiles could only whimper in reply, eyes still squeezed shut, now imagining Derek's fingers pumping in and out of him. This was  _unreal._

"Such a good boy. Look at you, falling apart just for me. You're doing so good." Derek pressed in further to bite his neck gingerly. He let a hand drop again, a vice grip on Stiles through his jeans. "Such a good, good boy."

And just like that, it was over. Stiles might have just been the loudest person in this entire goddamn club.

He was paralyzed for a good moment, glued to the couch as he came down from the high. _I literally just came in my pants in a nightclub,_ he repeated over and over in his head. Forcing his eyes open after a few seconds, he saw Derek walking over to the other side of the room to the mini-fridge. He came back with a water bottle, tossing it Stiles' way. He caught it, staring at the man in awe. 

"I would love to stay and chat, but I'm still on my shift for another two hours. We should go find your friends," Derek said, holding out a hand and looking the slightest bit smug. 

He nodded wordlessly, taking his hand and being led out of the heaven-room, head still spinning.

As they reached the curtain, Derek stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" 

Stiles looked at him blankly. "Huh?"

Derek pointed a finger back at the couch, where his phone was sitting. 

 

-

 

His water bottle was nearly empty by the time they had found Scott and Jordan, who were sat at a table with a girl, who Scott was very engaged in talking to.

"Ever need me again, just ask for me," Derek whispered in his ear before disappearing into the crowd.

Stiles looked at the two men, hoping his face didn't scream  _I just came so hard I think I saw God._ He also silently prayed that his dark jeans and the club's dim lighting were enough to hide his huge mess, holding his water bottle precisely over his zipper.

Jordan looked at him, raising a brow. "You good, Stiles?"

He swallowed dryly. "Fine. Tired."

"We should head back before traffic gets too heavy. Exams, right?" Jordan winked, grabbing Scott's attention from the pretty dark-haired girl sat next to him. 

"Right."

On the ride back, the other two listened to Scott ramble dreamily about Kira, his newfound dancer-turned-soulmate. 

Jordan eventually noticed the silence from the back. "Stiles? How was your night?" 

There was a pause. Scott looked back from the passenger seat. "Stiles?"

Stiles stared out the window, starry eyed. He wasn't sure if clubs were for him, but Derek really was somebody.

"I think I'm in love with a stripper."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your comments/support!!!


End file.
